Stuck in Paradise
by SeraphHT
Summary: In a stranger's final moments, directions to a private island are given, where food, water and electricity are available. Thus, the Survivors sail off to the said island, to spend the following weeks in luxury as they wait for things to subside. Now away from hell, what do they do in paradise? (Mainly Nick/Ellis, with Francis/Rochelle and Louis/Zoey. Rating may change.)
1. Small Mistakes

**A/N: **_Ellis' eyes are often described as blue, whereas Nick's eyes are described as green. In the wiki, Ellis' eyes are green, whereas Nick's are grey. So in my fanfiction, I follow the wiki's information, please don't get confused!_

_And…I don't know where I'm going with this, but I'm pretty happy with this first chapter. Reviews and comments fuel me with motivation, which equals updates. No flames, please, but helpful and thoughtful criticism is always accepted._

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_._

The pistol trembled in his hands as he leaned against the wall, staring down at the infected he had just killed.

Ellis had a hard time believing what had just happened. His heart throbbed against his ribs and his mind scrambled to process the events which took place before him a mere few seconds ago.

He noted how bad the doctor looked, though he only considered it as a bad night's sleep, and the doctor was about to take his blood…when he suddenly _turned. _The _doctor _turned into a Hunter! If only Ellis hadn't been quick enough to kick it away, the human-turned-zombie was sure to have pounced at him.

He remembered his horror when the Hunter stumbled into the lone military officer in the room, pulling off his protective mask in the process of the fall. Ellis watched as the Hunter moved from him to the soldier, pouncing on him before proceeding to claw his guts out.

After pulling himself together, Ellis shoved the Hunter off the soldier, before snatching the pistol to shoot the Hunter in the head. But he was too late, for the military officer was already dead at his feet.

"Aww, shit, this whole fuckin' ship must be contaminated!" He exclaimed in dismay, hands flying to his head, leaning against the wall. _'This shouldn't be happenin'! Coach an' Ro an' Nick an' I made it so far ta get here! This is s'pose ta be safety!'_

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts. The infection was probably in the soldiers already, considering the soldiers and the doctors communicate with each other, sometimes when the soldiers didn't have their masks on.

Ellis pushed the door open, making his way down the hallways stealthily, pistol in hand. He had to find his teammates and get out of there.

_._

"_AAAAH! Get this thing off my back!"_

Nick's desperate scream sliced through the air like a sharp blade, drowning out the zombies' groans and quickly catching Rochelle's attention. She whirled around to find a Jockey stuck to the conman's back, dragging him towards the door leading out to the deck.

"Hang on!" She shouted, bringing her pan down on a few of the infected soldiers in her rush to the brown-haired man. Luckily for Nick, she reached him before he was led out to the deck, and the Jockey was shoved off him.

The conman swung his bat violently at the Jockey, killing the mutated zombie as it flew back.

"Thanks," He said tersely to the dark-skinned woman, who nodded briefly in reply.

The duo dealt with the remaining infected for a few minutes. Finally, the cafeteria was clear, and Rochelle tiredly slumped down the wall. Nick, on the other hand, took a seat at one of the tables, wiping his palm over his damp forehead as he took in slow, deep breaths.

"Alright, so the military officers turned into zombies," Rochelle mumbled in irritation, "Let's go look for Coach and Ellis."

"Good idea," Nick agreed, pushing himself to his feet as Rochelle stood up. After claiming M16 assault rifles from the dead military officers, the two continued with their objective.

"What happened to the other survivors?" She wondered as they exited the cafeteria, turning into a lonely hallway. Her voice echoed as she continued, "Weren't there about…twenty other survivors on the boat with us?"

Nick was saved from replying when they came across the bodies of the strangers Rochelle mentioned. The bodies, those who have also fought their way to the 'safety' of the military, laid strewn about the hall in pools of blood.

Their faces twisted into grimaces at the gory scene. Rochelle felt something prick at her heart as she imagined the fear and despair as the other Carriers were crushed by Chargers, pounced by Hunters, strangled by Smokers, or dying away in Spitter acid. There were no weapons and it was impossible to outrun special infected.

"Nick! Ro!"

The two spun around in the direction from where they came from, happiness flooding them at the sound of the deep, assuring voice. Coach stood at the entrance of the cafeteria, a shotgun in hand, with Ellis behind him.

"Coach! Ellis!" Rochelle ran up to the team leader and gave him a friendly, relieved hug. "I've never been so relieved to see you."

"It's cause'a Ellis I'm safe, ya know," Coach gave the young hick a proud pat on the back, "Killed the Charger a few seconds after it caught me."

Ellis smiled, before turning to look at Nick.

"Heya, Nick," He greeted childishly, his smile breaking into a handsome grin. "Glad ta see ya doin' alright."

"Good to see you too, Ace," Nick gave him a warm smile, which sent a strange sensation surging through Ellis' body.

The team hadn't seen each other for the few days they spent on the boat since they were saved in New Orleans, separated from each other due to 'safety reasons' as the doctors ran tests to find the cure for the infection. For some reason, Nick was (much to his surprise) happy he could see Coach, Rochelle and Ellis again. He never thought he would get attached to them, but he was more than attached now—they were his family.

The group re-entered the cafeteria and walked out on deck.

The sun's warm rays kissed Rochelle's bronze skin, the wind gently blew in her face, and the pleasant sound of birds in the distance whistled in her ear. Looking up, she saw the brilliant blue sky, and was quickly reminded of how much she wanted to escape from this nightmare.

"So…any idea of how we're getting out of here?" Rochelle asked, reluctantly looking away from the scenery.

"I haven't the slightest idea," Nick heaved a sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Well, wha' about we fight our way up ta the control room or sumthin', then we drive the boat ta shore?" Ellis suggested with a small shrug of his shoulders, "We might even find some kinda radio or'a map."

"Good one, Ellis," Coach praised, a grin playing on his face, "Let's get 'round the deck. The entrance ta the room should be on the other side."

Coach took the lead, and the team followed the railing around the boat. The deck was free of infected and military officers, and they weren't sure whether it was a good or a bad sign—if there were soldiers, hope for safety was still present, but then, if there weren't any infected, the group wouldn't have to worry for their lives.

Nick was suspicious of how Coach had the knowledge of the entrance, but quickly decided it wasn't a good time to ask, for the bursting sounds of gunfire and shouts came into hearing.

"Other survivors!" Ellis exclaimed, but his excitement quickly changed into fear as the boat began to rock violently. As they stumbled, he shouted once again, the panic in his voice high. "TANK!"

Three figures emerged from around the boat, and following them was the large, terrifying monster of the zombie apocalypse.

"Shoot the Tank! Shoot the Tank!" Nick barked, he and Rochelle lifting their M16 rifles simultaneously.

The gunfire increased in volume as the hundreds of rounds of bullets from Nick and Rochelle came tearing through the monster's pink flesh at break-neck speed. Coach joined them by sending powerful bullets of the shotgun, mainly aiming for the Tank's head. In addition to the strong support from the three other survivors (who also had assault rifles), the Tank soon fell on his knees and keeled over.

Ellis felt useless, for he did the less damage to the Tank, wielding only two handguns. He watched with a small wave of disappointment as his teammates, and the other survivors, stopped running and caught their breaths. The boat ceased its precarious rocking.

The three survivors looked incredibly familiar. It took a few moments, but Ellis finally identified them and snapped his fingers.

"Zoey!" He exclaimed her name first, for she was the closest to him. The names of the other two men followed. "Francis! Louis!"

Nobody immediately said anything following Ellis' exclamation, though. The rest were still recovering from the sudden encounter with the Tank. However, a few seconds later, Francis wiped his forehead and glanced at Ellis.

"Well, if it isn't the hick who had the hots for Zoey!" He gave a friendly, small grin. His eyes wandered off to the other familiar faces—from Coach's friendly smile, to Nick's digusted expression, and to the beautiful Rochelle.

"Nice to see you guys safe!" Louis beamed, as happy and as cheery as he was when the two teams first met, though fatigue was evident in his voice.

"How did ya wind up here?" Coach asked.

"Well, the military caught us recently," Zoey replied, slowly sitting on the floor, "We were here a couple of hours when the first zombie jumped at us."

"Ya guys're lucky ya just arrived," Ellis frowned. "They still treated us like shit—bossin' us 'round with them guns like we're prisoners, ya know. They said we're Carriers'a the infection and they were keepin' us just in case one'a us had the cure in our blood."

Louis, Francis and Zoey exchanged glances, their encounter with the military prior to Bill's departure came to mind.

"Where did y'all find that Tank?" Coach asked, reloading his auto shotgun.

"Down near the…quarantine room or somethin'," Francis replied gruffly, scratching the back of his head. "Lucky by then we had some rifles of our own, if not we would've been dead meat."

"What do you plan on doing?" Louis inquired, eyes meeting Nick's in search of an answer.

Nick glanced at Coach, who simply nodded. Nick proceeded with saying, "We were on the way to the control room."

"Huh," was all Zoey breathed out, silently surprised by the idea.

"Well, let's stick together," Louis got to his feet, the M16 cradled in his hands, "The headquarters – or control room—is the only place we haven't checked. Other than that, other parts of the boat are clear."

"The other people didn't make it," Francis said solemnly. "Plenty of Special Infected, though."

"Well, let's getta move on," Ellis urged, excitement flickering in his eyes. He was so eager to find a primary weapon other than his two handguns.

A few minutes later, the group of seven approached a greyish-white door. Coach pushed the metal slab open, revealing to them a long, depressing hallway with many doors, with a flight of stairs at the end.

"Those stairs should take us up ta the controls," Coach said, his voice heavy with hope.

"Are we planning on searching the rooms?" Rochelle asked, looking inquiringly at Ellis as she bashfully ignored Francis' flirtatious glances. "Might as well make sure this sector's clear if we're going to steer the boat to shore, right?"

"Great idea, Ro," Ellis played along and gave her a wink, realizing she was purporsely ignoring the biker.

Rochelle glared at him.

Ellis, Nick, Rochelle and Francis continued with kicking the metal doors open, only to find different rooms of different use to the military, such as rooms for medical purposes, and some with beds for the soldiers. There were no zombies around.

"We have guns here!" came Rochelle's voice from a certain room. Louis followed up behind her and took a look inside from over her shoulder.

The rest of the group poured into the room, picking out from the wide arsenal of guns and ammunition.

"This is cool," Ellis mumbled to himself, a puerile smile adorning his lips as he picked up a combat shotgun.

"My guess is this sector's clear and safe," Zoey surmised as she replaced her M16 with a hunting rifle.

"I'm with the girl," Coach nodded in agreement. "Let's get up ta the control room. Pray there's some sorta radio."

They left the 'gun room', according to Francis, and climbed the short flight of stairs, entering a dim room with a clear view of the open sea.

Ellis whistled as he swept his gaze across the room. "That's a holy lotta buttons. What happened ta the classic steering wheel?"

Nobody replied to his query, for the steering wheel was at the back of the control room. Ellis spotted it a few seconds later and, embarrassed, mumbled something incoherent.

Nick approached the blinking controls. He stared at them, subconsciously reminded of his criminal days, for he once had accomplices who knew how to operate such a boat. Though a part of him missed the old days free from zombies and danger lurking at every corner, he also didn't want to return to that life. He couldn't believe it himself, but he wished he had met his teammates before the apocalypse.

"There's no radio," Francis announced, disappointed. "There ain't no map here either."

"Well, looks like we're gonna have ta find our way ta shore, then," Coach shook his head before he glanced at Nick, who was still staring at the controls. "You could operate those, Nicolas?"

"Nope," He said simply, turning away from the buttons. "But the boat's still moving and that's good enough for me. All we have to do is steer off in a direction."

"Which direction?" Ellis asked, gingerly putting his hands on the steering wheel. Traces of blush lingered on his cheeks from his earlier foolishness.

"Let's vote," Nick grinned, earning a snort from Francis.

"And risk getting lost in the ocean?" The biker sneered, folding his arms. "Not a chance."

"Fine, let's all just sit in the control room and wait to death for rescue that's never coming," Nick scoffed, his powerful glare meeting with Francis', whose was equally as threatening.

"A fight is the last thing we need right now," Zoey snapped, reprimanding the two men like a mother scolding her children. "We have to get along. We depend on each other for survival. So stop being a bunch of jackasses and work together."

The two men huffed out in frustration and looked away from each other. With a smile, the dark-haired woman continued cheerily. "I vote we go east."

"I vote west," Louis shrugged.

Nick nodded approvingly. "I'm with Louis."

"Well, east," Francis said thoughtfully. "I'm on Zoey's side."

"I was thinking of going north," Rochelle's lips broke into a grin. She knew she was just causing trouble.

Coach laughed heartily. "Me too, Ro."

All eyes turned to Ellis. He had yet to make a decision.

"Well, I don't mean ta dissapoint ya guys an' all, but…" Ellis's green eyes wandered off to the ceiling after a few moments of silence. "I was thinkin'a headin' south... but I'm okay with any direction. It doesn't really matter, right? Every direction we're votin' is jus' a roll'a the dice."

Silence settled between the seven at the harsh reality of Ellis' words. He was right—even if they've reached a conclusion as to which direction to head to, there was no confirmation whether they were heading deeper into the sea or out towards shore. It was a risky gamble, but one they _must _make.

"Alright then, we go south," Nick concluded, almost in a peremptory manner. Nobody objected to him, though, and his grey eyes set their gaze on Ellis. "Who's going to steer the boat?"

Just as the auburn-haired boy was about to speak, Francis quickly replied to his question. "I'll do it."

Ellis stared disbelievingly at Francis, earning a laugh from Louis. The biker approached Ellis, who stood in front of the steering wheel, and put a hand on his shoulder, one edge of his lips curved upwards into a smirk.

"You can take the next shift, kid," He said, gently pushing him to the side.

As Francis gained control of the steady-moving boat, Zoey tugged on Louis's sleeve, inviting him downstairs to barricade the entrance in the hallway.

The two soon disappeared down the flight of stairs. Nick stared vacantly at Coach, Rochelle and Ellis, who each found a seat at respective parts of the controls. Francis slowly turned the wheel, and the boat made a slow turn to head south.

"It's nice to get some air-con," Rochelle flashed the conman a lopsided smile, pointing out the air-conditioners in the room. She leaned more into her leather seat and folded her arms, a snug smirk replacing her smile. "The rooms I was in were stuffy and hot and their fans didn't work."

"Tell me about it," Coach shook his head at the bad memory. Ellis was true about another thing—the military treated Carriers like prisoners.

"Well, I'm going downstairs," Nick declared, approaching the stairs. As he descended, he summed up the rooms in the hallway.

There was a room for medical purposes—with plenty of first-aid kits and pain pills—and a room with half a dozen double-decker beds. There was a small cooking area in the place as well, with a freezer beholding tinned foods and frozen goods. Other than the room with guns and ammunition, two bathrooms occupied the other two doors.

By the time Nick finished his descend, he found Louis and Zoey at the end of the hallway, having succesfully barricaded the entrance, engaged in a conversation. They took no notice of his presence as he turned into the dorm, shut the door behind him, and plopped down on one of the beds.

He removed his white coat before lifting his feet off the cold, concrete floor to lie down at full-length. The atmosphere in the large room was cool and dim, encouraging further drowsiness and engulfing him in the comfort of the soft mattress and thin sheets. It was times like this did he remember how backbreaking surviving an apocalypse was.

He was in a pleasant state of calm in the partially-dark room, until the metal entrance opened. It was noiseless, the door, but it was the light which splashed into the room from the hallway that aroused Nick from his rest. Reluctantly, he lifted one of his eyelids to see who had entered.

"Ellis, I'm trying to sleep," Nick mumbled, forcing both his eyes open.

"Sorry, Nick," Ellis flashed the brown-haired man an innocent smile. The hick stepped into the room, gingerly closing the door behind him, blocking out the light. Darkness reclaimed its place in the air-conditioned room, and Nick detected from sound and movement as Ellis shuffled his way to Nick's bed.

A weight pressed down on his side and Nick soon realized Ellis was sitting down on his bed.

"What is it, Ellis?" He demanded impatiently, running a hand over his forehead though there was no sweat to wipe away.

"I jus' came by ta tell ya I really missed ya, Nick," Ellis' said, his voice assuring in the dim. Nick struggled to focus on his face, only to find a warm smile on the auburn-haired man's face as he stared back at him. "With ya bein' a conman and whatnot, I thought they musta been treatin' ya worse than the others."

"Nonsense." Nick meant to scoff the word out and roll over his side, facing away from Ellis. Instead, he found himself lost in his beautiful green eyes and meaningful smile, and he whispered the word out softly instead of sneering in his usual snarky tone.

"Well, I'm purdy tired myself," Ellis lifted himself off the bed and shuffled to the one next to Nick's. As he sat down, a yawn escaped Ellis' lips and the hick stretched, lazily muttering, "Imma get some shut eye. Sorry fer wakin' ya up, Nick."

"It's alright, kid," Nick replied softly, shifting underneath the thin sheets as he re-adjusted himself into a comfortable position.

Silence fell upon them. Nick kept his eyes up at the ceiling, but he knew Ellis was still awake. The steady breaths coming from Ellis were not the same ones he made when he was asleep. Nick, being a light sleeper, always found himself awake during the nights on their way to New Orleans. He always ended up listening to the calm, deep breaths Ellis took in his sleep; the inhalations and exhalations which calmed him to a certain extent always guided him to sleep comfortably. The breaths Ellis took now were different—they were steady, yes, but slow and furtive—and Nick just could tell he wasn't asleep. The hick was relaxed, not dozed off.

"What do you feel about seeing Zoey?" Nick suddenly asked, turning his head in Ellis' direction.

His eyebrows were shot up, as though he was surprised Nick knew he wasn't asleep. After a brief moment, the young man coughed and averted his eyes to the ceiling, a blush creeping up to his cheeks since he was caught staring.

"Well, I'm happy she's alright an' all," Ellis stammered, his face heating up from the red tint on his cheeks. "She's still really beautiful as when we first met her."

"Oh." Nick honestly had no idea what else to reply, especially with the burning feeling welling up in his chest. For some reason, he was sort of hoping Ellis wasn't going to obsess over the college girl again.

Just as the awkward quietness returned, Ellis continued, his voice heavy with consideration and meaning. "But, ta tell ya the truth, I think Zoey's attracted to Louis, so I dun wanna get in the middle'a their relationship, ya know?" He glanced at Nick, his green eyes meeting grey orbs, "And besides, I guess my attraction kinda died away. She's still real pretty, tho' I vote Ro's beautifull-er."

Nick released a chuckle. "It's 'more beautiful', not 'beautifuller', Ellis."

"Yeah, sure," Ellis muttered, closing his eyes and breaking off their gaze.

Once again, the situation returned to silence. This time, it was longer—Nick spent those long twenty minutes shifting uncomfortably in his bed.

"Geez, Nick, it's so hard ta sleep with ya movin' all the time," Ellis complained finally, sitting up. The edge of his lips was slightly tugged upwards as he glanced at the sleep-troubled conman. "Don't tell me ya need somebody ta snuggle up next ta ya fer ya ta sleep."

"Well, I _don't _need that," Nick's retorted, annoyed. "Go to sleep."

Ellis stayed sitting up for a while, before shrugging and pulling the sheets up to his chin. "Well, up ta yew, Nick."

As the silence found its way back between them, Nick felt a tinge of regret in denying Ellis' offer. He knew the hick was innocent and friendly in his offer—if it even _was _an offer—and had no other intentions.

Nick couldn't help but stare at the auburn-haired man. The steady rise and fall of his chest, followed by the familiar, almost melodious breaths, assured the conman he was asleep.

Nick closed his eyes, forcing himself to doze off.

_._

"Come on, Rochelle," Francis whined, almost like a child, as he stared pleadingly at the beautiful woman. "I don't hate your pretty pink shirt! What's so wrong with my vest?"

"It's ugly," She blankly remarked, checking her nails.

A small grunt came from the biker, and the tan-skinned woman stood up from her seat, moving across the room to unite with a smirking Coach.

"Girl, you are one who likes ta play hard-ta-get," He said in a low voice, followed by a chuckle.

"Oh, Coach, I'm not so naïve," Rochelle whispered with a roll of her eyes. "We've only met each other for ten minutes, at the bridge. Five seconds he's been shouting to us from up there, and the other nine minutes and fifty-five seconds when we were getting the fuel for the generator."

Coach remained silent, and this urged her to continue. "I mean…I don't know him, and although he's quite handsome…I don't like him romantically."

"Well, ta tell the truth, I ain't all that fond'a people like 'im," Coach admitted, shrugging. However, he hastened to correct himself, "I mean, it ain't right with all that tattoos on his arms and neck. Jus' don't really like it, y'know?"

"I totally understand," Rochelle smiled.

Francis, annoyed he was left out of their conversation, cleared his throat and remarked, "Y'know, it's gettin' pretty dark out there…I guess I've been driving this thing for about two hours."

Rochelle and Coach glanced out the wide window offering the view of the ocean, and discovered the sky was absorbed in purple, red and gold. The orange sun, setting into the sea far out, made the waters glimmer beautifully, and their goal—land—was distant and remote from where they were.

"If you ask me, we should reach land by tomorrow mornin'," Francis shrugged. His dark eyes moved to Rochelle and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, pleading, "I noticed a kitchen down there, sweetheart. Could you whip us all up somethin' to eat? Or else I'll pass out just driving this thing."

"Sure," Rochelle giggled slightly after meeting both the hopeful eyes of Francis and Coach.

She descended down the stairs and found Zoey leaning against Louis on the crates barricading the entrance. Apparently, the young woman was asleep, whereas Louis was falling in and out of consciousness, struggling to keep awake.

"Louis, what're you doing?" Rochelle asked with a smile, her tone that of a caring friend. "If you and Zoey are tired, go get Coach or me or Ellis or Nick to replace you two. No use sleeping when taking care of the barricade, huh?"

"I don't want to trouble Nick and Ellis, they're both asleep," Louis persisted, though the heavy sleepiness in his voice gave him away. He reddened, then muttered, "Well, we could go to the dorm later…what're you doing here?"

"I was about to cook something," Rochelle answered, "Let me wake Nick and Ellis after I'm done cooking. That way, once you and Zoey here have a good meal, you could go rest in the dorm while Nick and Ellis stand out here. Is that alright?"

"Sounds great," Louis smiled warmly. "Thank you."

"How's your leg, though?" Rochelle asked, standing by the door leading to the mini-cafeteria-like kitchen.

"It's healing good," He replied, and with some other necessities Rochelle finally disappeared into the kitchen.

There were frozen goods and canned foods, and the rather large kitchen was complete with a microwave, counters and a few stoves. Very soon, Rochelle managed to cook up a simple meal for the seven of them, composed of fried chicken, sardines and the like.

She stepped out of the kitchen, to find that during her half an hour disappearance, Louis had finally surrendered to sleep. He slept soundly, and with Zoey leaning comfortably against his shoulder, Rochelle couldn't stop the smile on her face. The two were cute together.

'_Poor Ellis,' _She thought with a small snicker. Upon remembering his name, she decided to go and wake the two men up. She knew both he and Nick were in the dorm room thanks to Louis, who told her that he had seen them enter the dorm.

Slowly, she pushed the metal door open. It opened noiselessly, inch by inch, until it was big enough for her head to go through. Peeking in, what she saw would have made her laugh out loud if she hadn't been so caught up with surprise.

She stood there for about a few seconds, finally believing what her eyes were showing (for, she thought, that the dark was playing her mind tricks) and quickly slipped into the room without letting much light in. After closing the door behind her, she stealthily approached the nearest bed.

Ellis slept just like how he slept on the night to New Orleans—peacefully; serenely, with one hand on his stomach while the other by his side. The way he slept mystified her, for she always thought he would be the type who'd roll over and suffocate somebody in their sleep, or take up all the space available by spreading their arms and legs out wide, or would snore up a storm during the night. He contrasted all of her beliefs.

Nick was lying on his left, his hands serving more or less like a pillow underneath his head, and with such a relaxed face, the conman looked much younger than thirty-five. He was trapped in a dream, dear Nicolas was, and Rochelle smiled sweetly at his sleeping form.

"Ellis…" She murmured softly, shaking him awake.

"Mmpphh…" Ellis groaned and rolled over to his left, facing away from Rochelle, flipping his arm over whatever was lying by his side.

It took everything Rochelle had to not laugh. First, Ellis and Nick sleeping comfortably on one bed when there were about twelve other beds, and now, Ellis curled up to Nick with an arm over him? If only she had a camera.

"Ellis…wake up," She whispered and another attempt to awaken him started.

This time she was successful.

Ellis felt his face heat up when he found his face in Nick's blue shirt, and quickly pulled away, almost hitting Rochelle in the process. He sat up and threw his legs on the floor, his eyes downcast, his cheeks red, and his hand scratching the back of his neck. Rochelle finally giggled—though, mind you, it was a _laugh_ stifled into a giggle. She did not want to further embarrass him, but at the same time, could no longer contain her mirth.

"Food's ready," She said, the smile still plastered on her face. Ellis made an incoherent mumble and she proceeded out the door. "Get Nick up, quickly eat, and then take over Louis' and Zoey's position at guarding the barricade."

"Yes, ma'am," He nodded, and was left in darkness as she exited.

Ellis ran a hand over his forehead and through his auburn locks, before glancing at his cap (which he took off before napping) on the floor. Embarrassingly, he looked over his shoulder to see the sleeping Nick.

How did Nick suddenly end up next to him? When he offered a bit of his bed to share with Nick (because of his inability to sleep), the conman refused. And with him just abruptly lying next to him, how could Ellis not end up snuggling up to him? He was mortified by the thought.

"Hey…Nick," Ellis reached a hand out, and quickly succeeded in waking him up. After a brief repeat of what Rochelle told him, Ellis watched Nick rub his eyes, grunt and sit up.

And he didn't miss the blush which crept up Nick's cheeks when he realized he was caught next to Ellis. Despite embarrassed, Nick coughed and shuffled out of the room without saying a word to Ellis.

The auburn-haired man just watched with curiosity as Nick closed the metal door behind him.


	2. The Letter

**A/N: **_Thanks for the kind feedback! :D Here's another chapter. Any reviews or comments are accepted, though flames I shall use for barbeque. Enjoy!_

* * *

Nick entered the kitchen to find Louis and Zoey eating contentedly on the simple meal Rochelle had prepared for them. He noted subconsciously they were both seated next to each other on the same crate (this was because there were no chairs around, but crates stacked atop one another).

Taking a plastic plate, Nick took what he wanted and found an unoccupied crate, before sitting down and tucking into his meal. Very soon Rochelle appeared, with Francis following up from behind her.

Rochelle helped herself and sat down next to Nick. The conman realized the tan-skinned woman eyed Francis suspiciously as he settled down on a crate opposite them.

Nick suspected Rochelle was annoyed of Francis' flirts, but it wouldn't hurt to have her admit it. He swallowed what was in his mouth and nudged her lightly, smirking. "There are like, a dozen other crates, Sweetheart."

"Nick, I know you know why I'm doing this," Rochelle murmured, rolling her eyes. As she chewed, she smirked at him and said, "Besides, I'd leave this empty spot for Ellis."

Nick grunted and looked away, hoping the slight tint of his cheeks wasn't visible to her.

"Where is Ellis, anyway?" Rochelle asked, giving Nick a suspicious glance.

"Beats me," Nick shrugged, though he was slightly worried as well. He asked, "What about Coach? It isn't like him to skip a meal, however simple it may be."

"He's taking over Francis' shift at steering the boat," Rochelle explained, "I'll bring food up to him later. Somebody has to steer the boat, right?"

At this moment, Ellis walked in through the entrance, and upon seeing the food, his face lightened up.

"Oh man, I've never felt so hungry!" He rushed to get a plate, and took up what he wanted.

He sat on the crate next to Francis, enjoying his meal. Nick, for some reason, was irritated by how casual Ellis was, especially since he was still embarrassed having been caught next to him in his bed.

The conman suppressed his irritation. His gaze wandered from Ellis and Francis to Louis and Zoey.

"Those two are really close," Rochelle whispered, rather excitedly, when she followed Nick's gaze. "I'm willing to bet that's not just friendship between them."

"Ellis told me so, too," Nick replied, subconsciously taking a bite of the chicken.

He did not realize what he had divulged until Rochelle said in a sharp but low tone, "Wait, _Ellis _said so? You asked him?"

Both Nick's and Rochelle's eyes glanced at Ellis, and satisfied he was distracted in his meal, Nick continued with a small grumble. "Yeah, I asked him—so what?"

"What did he say about Zoey?" Rochelle inquired eagerly.

Nick frowned and raised an eyebrow at the curiosity radiating from her. Seeing his expression, the brunette rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Well, _excuse me _for asking about your _private conversations_ with Ellis."

After a small growl, Nick sighed and replied softly, "Ellis said his attraction for Zoey died away, and that he didn't want to get in the middle of her relationship with Louis. You satisfied?"

Rochelle simply grinned, and this made Nick smile, too. "Geez, you really have that peremptory manner of a reporter."

"Oh, don't bring up the subject of my job," Rochelle grumbled as she sipped some water.

Nick was silently amused by how her mood changed at the mention of her job prior to the apocalypse. Rochelle had always given out hints of how eager she was to climb the career ladder.

Francis paused halfway through his meal and glanced up at Louis and Zoey. The two were chatting to each other in a low tone, and it was obvious Louis was telling her a story, for the dark-haired girl was giggling and smiling.

He was jealous, yes, but never was he going to admit it. It bewildered him—what did Zoey see in Louis? He was a pain in the ass in Francis' eyes. So annoyingly optimistic, so irritatingly talkative. Yet, Louis was getting along so well with Zoey. He was quickly tightening their relationship, getting closer to her every time they chatted…Francis felt, in a way, as though he was losing a battle.

And the fact his romantic interest, Rochelle, was quite a challenge! He knew that one day Rochelle will fall for him, but that day was still a long way to go. How does Louis do it? Should he imitate him and treat Rochelle like a friend and teammate? Eventually, just like Zoey for Louis, Rochelle will fall for him, too, right?

"Hey, Ellis," Francis muttered, and Ellis looked up from his meal, still chewing. The younger man had a curious look on his face.

"What's up with Rochelle?" The biker asked, rather reluctantly. He felt embarrassed for having to ask for help to win a woman (which was something he had never done before—he was always so successful with ladies). "She looks kinda irritated every time I flirt with her…"

Ellis smirked and replied in a low tone, "Well, first thing' first, Ro's got'a good head on 'er shoulders, ya see. She hardly even knows ya, Francis, and she feels if she doesn't know somebody, it's ridiculous ta be so…_infatuated _with 'em."

Francis was riled by Ellis' honesty. The hick continued, oblivious of Francis' annoyance. "If ya really wanna approach 'er, you gotta take it slow an' steady. Take the time ta know 'er…an' she'll eventually start likin' you."

Louis and Zoey simultaneously brought their plates to the sink.

"Let me wash those plates for you," Louis offered, taking Zoey's plate. He rolled up his sleeves and turned the tap on to wash the dishes.

Nick and Francis scoffed, for it was, to them, pathetic of Louis to do so. But Rochelle thought otherwise.

"You're such a gentleman, Louis," She smiled warmly. "Zoey's so lucky to have you."

Zoey blushed, whereas Louis (with his back facing the whole crowd) seemed to have staggered in his movements, though his face wasn't visible.

Ellis smiled at Zoey's embarrassment, but his thoughts were immediately diverted elsewhere. "Where's Coach?"

"Upstairs," Nick replied.

"I almost forgot," Rochelle chuckled. She looked hopefully at Zoey and smiled apologetically. "Zoey, honey, can you do me a favour and bring some food and water up to Coach? He's just sacrificing himself up there steering the boat."

"Of course," Zoey nodded. After the plate of food and galss of water was ready, she turned to Francis, who was sheepishly slipping his empty plate into Louis' hands. "Francis, let's go up to Coach."

The biker was relieved to go with her since it was an opportunity to escape Louis' glare at the extra plate in the sink. The two disappeared up the flight of stairs, and Louis, done with the small task, yawned heavily.

"I'll be going to sleep, guys," Louis said, trudging out of the kitchen.

Nick was done with his food by the time Louis entered the dorm. He stood up, put his plate in the sink and washed his hands. The conman turned around and walked to the entrance of the kitchen, and at this time, Zoey descended the stairs and entered the dorm.

Seeing her enter the dorm made Nick grimace. It would take at least a day for him to fully recover from his embarrassment of being caught next to Ellis.

He walked up the flight of stairs and joined Coach and Francis. Coach was still eating by one of the chairs whereas Francis had reclaimed his place by the steering wheel. Nick slumped down heavily on one of the chairs, leaning into the comfort that the leather offered.

"So, saw you talking with Rochelle just now," Francis said, glancing at Nick.

A smirk formed on the conman's face. "Oh, you jealous?"

The biker glared. "Jealous, my ass."

Nick chuckled, pleased with himself. "So, am I wrong when I say you were talking to Ellis just now because of Rochelle?"

Francis scoffed. "Shut up, Colonel Sanders."

"So I'm right, Greaseball."

"Shut up, before I _make _you shut up."

"Go to hell, monkey. She's _way _out of your league."

"Oh, we'll see."

"We don't have to see. I already know."

"You've only known her for, what, two weeks?"

"And you, for, what, fifteen minutes?"

Coach, irritated by their pointless argument, interrupted them. "Would you two just be quiet and let a tired man enjoy his meal? If this goes on, I'll make sure to never put you two in the same room."

The two men immediately fell silent. Nick did so because Coach said so, and in a way, Nick respected Coach as his leader.

Francis thought Coach was similar to Bill in several ways. He had every aspect of a great leader. Just like Bill, Coach was selfless and responsible, and though Francis didn't know Coach as much as Nick did, he respected him anyway. The thought of Bill saddened Francis to a certain extent.

Back down in the kitchen, Ellis was washing his, Rochelle's and Nick's plates.

"I'm sorry if this embarrasses you," Rochelle started, apologetic in tone, "But…how did Nick end up next to you?"

Ellis blushed a bit, recalling how snug he felt hugging what he thought was a pilow that radiated warmth. He was silly, so very silly…

"Nick was real uneasy, so he kept on shiftin' an' changin' his position, an' it was real hard for me ta sleep 'cause he was movin' so much," Ellis tried hard to sound casual, and was satisfied with his tone. "So I hinted ta him that he could sleep next ta me if he wanted ta…"

Rochelle chuckled, and Ellis spun around. His face was red and he sputtered out hastily, "I-I mean nothin' else, alrigh'! I was goin' ta shift a bit so there'd be space for him, an' between he an' I so he would feel comfortable. He didn't wan'ta, so I just w-went ta sleep!"

"So, you're telling me that _Nick _came to you, not _you _came to Nick?" Rochelle was evidently bewildered. Her disbelief was obvious.

Ellis nodded with a small shrug, and Rochelle chuckled, though still shocked. "Strange…I never thought it that way. Maybe Nick's starting to have a soft spot for you, Ellis."

"Whaddaya mean?" He asked suspiciously.

Rochelle smiled, mischief flickering in her brown eyes. "You'll find that out for yourself."

There was some silence between them, before she got up and stretched. "I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up in ten minutes, will you?"

"Of course," Ellis nodded.

"Thanks," Rochelle smiled, and disappeared out the door and into the dorm room.

* * *

The Survivors finally reached land the next morning. After a few lucky guesses, Ellis somehow got the boat to stop just as they reached the docks. He, Nick and Francis stared out the window into the small town following the docks.

"Well, looks abondoned."

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Suit."

Ellis rolled his eyes. "Jus' stop arguin', and let's wake everyone up."

Very soon, all seven of them were awake and ready to leave the safety of the boat. They removed the barricade and hopped from the boat onto the wooden bridge leading to shore. Cautiously, the seven ventured into the town.

It was a small place, with no tall buildings or skyscrapers or noticable supermarkets and such. The terrace on either side of the road mainly consisted of shops and outlets. Tall, green trees, lined along the road, adorned the place.

However, it was deserted. The windows of the shops were cracked and yellowish with a few weeks' dust, cars were still where their owners had abondened them, tyres punctured and windshields smashed in, dried leaves littered the road and flew when the wind blew, the decay and depression hung in the atmosphere…

"There aren't any zombies here," Zoey pointed out cautiously, looking around.

"Maybe somebody cleared this town out?" Rochelle suggested. "It's such a small place—the residents must've been small in number."

"Well, whatever the mystery, we'll figure it out in the saferoom," Nick called out at the sight of the hurried graffiti of a safehouse, with an arrow pointing ahead.

"There should be some sort of map there," Louis nodded. Everybody increased their pace to quickly get to safety.

There were no zombies—no common infected littering the streets, no special infected crying out or making sounds to warn them, no Tanks huffing out and grunting, no Witches wailing and sobbing. It was quiet...so quiet. It was almost calm…but that peace was dreadful.

Before long, the seven reached what looked like a home. It was very small from the outside—only one storey and small in diameter. The white paint was peeling from the walls, as a result from years of rain and hot sun. Though it looked shabby and in a bad state of disrepair, it was, to them, a strong place to hide out. The door was replaced by the familiar red metal.

There were three bodies outside, lying side by side.

Dreadful silence settled between the Survivors. The bodies were covered with white sheets of what looked like blankets, with blood-stained areas at some spots. Although they knew nobody could hold out so long, every one of them was emotionally touched by how easy it was for a loved one to die.

"If there were four people on this team, whoever's left is all alone…" Louis said, his voice heavy with feeling.

"Let's get inside," Coach shook his head and walked past the bodies, reaching out for the handle of the red, metal door. He pushed, but the door wouldn't budge.

"Somebody must still be inside," Zoey reasoned. "The door must've been barricaded."

Francis started banging on the door. It carried on for a few minutes, and after plenty of threats and pleads, they came to the conclusions to break their way in.

The men worked together, and after some strong tries, the door finally gave in. The cupboard which barricaded it fell inside the room with a loud thud. The Survivors filled the saferoom and Nick, who took the rear, closed the door behind him.

The house was large and spacious—mainly because it was hardly furnished. The main room had only a couch on one side, a small round table with two chairs, and a rack opposite the couch. There were a few other doors leading to various rooms. On the rack were plenty of health packs (with a few defibrillators), adrenaline shots and pain pills. Guns and an ammo dump were on the floor.

There was blood from the entrance leading into the saferoom. Ellis, having been one of the first few which entered, followed the trail of blood to the sofa.

"Holy shit," He breathed out, eyes widening with horror. The others followed his gaze.

On the sofa was a young woman lying at full-length. Her skin was pale, scratched and bruised. Her brown hair was slightly scarlet with blood. With eyes closed, hands laced together across her stomach, and a pool of blood soaking her abdomen and a part of the sofa, it was obvious she was already dead.

"Shit, the last of the team," Nick cursed, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. So this was where the fourth member was. The other three died outside…and the fourth bled to death in the saferoom.

The terrible silence reclaimed the atmosphere between them. It was a horrible moment, one heavy with sadness and regret…

"What should we do with the body?" Rochelle asked, her voice soft and slightly cracked.

"Let's…not disturb it," Coach said, looking away to approach the nearby round table. "Respect 'er, young 'un."

The members moved away from the dead woman and approached the shelf to pick up supplies. Coach, on the other hand, found some interesting items on the round table. There was a compass, a pen, and a folded paper slightly stained with blood.

He picked up the paper, unfolded it and discovered it was a letter of some kind.

He read a part of it, before calling the other members of the team. They crowded around him, and Coach proceeded to read it out loud.

'_To whoever finds this,_

_My whole team is dead. My little sister is dead, so is her husband, and so is her husband's brother. I am alone, and I have been injured badly by a Tank. Damn those zombies. Damn CEDA. Fuck the military…_

_I'm a wealthy young woman. I own a private island just off the coast of this used-to-be cozy little town. It's west of this land. A very small island, really. It used to be a holiday getaway for Mei and I. I'm very much sure that water, electricity and food are available there. Only two weeks ago did the servants looking after the island and house quit their jobs._

_There is no point in my living. Whoever finds this is welcome to take refuge in my resort home. I also own a yacht, just by the docks. A compass should be right next to this letter. Please respect whatever you find in the home._

_Funny how the docks are so close, yet so far. Escape was just a few minutes away…if only we lasted long enough to get there…'_

"It ends there," Coach said, folding the paper. He turned to his team. Everybody had been listening attentively, and the last paragraph had a heavy impact on them.

"Well, let's make sure her sacrifice wasn't nothing," Nick said, glancing at the dead woman on the sofa. "Unless if anybody has better ideas, let's go to this island."

After collecting the supplies they needed, the team reluctantly left the saferoom. As they passed by the three bodies, Rochelle stared at them with a sad gaze. It was ghastly to think the dying woman had to watch her dear ones die.

They re-arrived at the docks, and quickly spotted a sleek yacht which they hadn't noticed before. Without hesitation, they climbed onto the medium-sized boat, and with some help from Nick, Ellis gained the satisfaction of steering the yacht.

Coach handed the hick the compass. "Here ya go, young 'un. Let's head west."

As the boat left the unknown, deserted town and headed west, the Survivors sat down and allowed their thoughts to wander elsewhere.

The sky was a healthy azure. Fluffy white clouds hung high in the endless space above them and birds, in flocks, flew and chirped in the distance, adding to the environemnt of the sparkling sea. A soft wind blew and provided a cool moment amid the warm atmosphere, due to the brilliant rays of the bright sun. The proper feeling of peace pervaded them and they missed the normal, everyday things they've taken for granted.

They drove for about two hours. The sun had reached its highest point and indicated noon, though the rays weren't as warm as in the morning. The clouds were thicker and provided shade for them. At this moment, Ellis noticed a chunk of land ahead of them.

"Well, I've been heading west all this time," Ellis said, catching the others' attention. "That should be the island."

In less than fifteen minutes, the seven drew near the island. There was an ordinary beach, only with a wooden bridge built in the center of the beach, stretching out towards sea. Ellis stopped the yacht by the bridge and they alighted.

At first glance, it definitely looked as though the island was just another ordinary island. There was a dense jungle ahead of them covering about seventy-five percent of the island from their view. However, Zoey saw past this disguise.

"There's a path over there," She pointed in a direction. True enough, there was a narrow clearing between the thick bushes and tall trees, leading deeper inside. There were unlit candles on large sticks along the path, which futher assured them.

They followed the trail. A few minutes into walking, they finally discovered the 'resort home' mentioned in the letter.

At the end of this path, came the view of a magnificent home. It was a very large home, with open windows and welcoming glass doors, displaying luxury and class in the middle of the thick words.

A turned-off fountain stood in front of the entrance, its marble carved brilliantly. The floor consisted of expensive, carved and coloured concrete and marble tiles. A few balconies stood out from various rooms. The house was in excellent and beautiful shape, though no lights were on.

"_Holy,_" Nick's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Back when he was gambling day and night, he always wanted to buy a home like this. Now his dream house was right in front of him.

Francis chuckled. "I could get used to this."

They ventured through large glass doors and into the mansion. They found themselves in a grand room, a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling, two hallways on their left and right, with two staircases in front of them. These flights of stairs led to the upper floor, which were carpeted and led to another two hallways, again on the left and right.

"Wow," was all Rochelle could say.

Nick found a few switches by the entrance and turned all of them on. The chandelier turned on, much to their happiness and surprise, along with a few wall lamps upstairs and in the hallways.

"So…" Ellis could hardly contain his excitement, and he eagerly turned to Coach. "Let's explore this awesome house!"

"Of course, young'un," Coach smiled, wagging his head. In his heart, he thanked the stranger who kindly gave up her island.

The group split up and they explored the large place. It was only a two storey home, though it was wide and lavish. They regrouped at the entrance about half an hour later, and having split into different directions, put forward newfound information.

On the left hallway of the first floor were two large rooms, three small bedrooms and a few bathrooms. One of these large rooms was completely clear, except a high-powered stereo by the side, so it was presumed a room for dancing and entertainment purposes.

The other large room was a library. The three small bedrooms were concluded to be guest rooms.

On the right hallway of the first floor were the kitchen, dining room and a hallway leading to the back of the house. The kitchen had a freezer (which was, to their surprise, turned on) with perfectly preserved goods. Kitchen appliances worked, and there were also unfrozen foods in some crates.

The dining room was grand and large enough for a party of a dozen. The hallway between the kitchen and the dining room led to a small swimming pool, which was dry and dirty with weeks of neglect.

It was evident all of the master bedrooms were on the second floor, both on the right and left hallways. There were, altogether, four master bedrooms. Each of them had almost the same layout: a luxurious double-bed, a private bathroom, a balcony beholding the view of the back of the house, a large wardrobe, a sofa and bookshelf, and a large painting.

The paintings differ with each master bedroom. Each one was a portrait of a different person with the name of the person at the bottom.

"Let's claim bedrooms," Rochelle grinned at their reunion. "Zoey and I are taking up the master bedrooms. One on the left hallway and one on the right hallway."

"What?" Francis exclaimed in disbelief. "That ain't fair!"

"Well, we just figured the portraits in each room is a portrait of its previous owner," Zoey explained with a small smile. "Two of the master bedrooms have portraits of women…so we just figured a girl should take up these bedrooms. Understand?"

It sounded ridiculous altogether, but the men couldn't find a reason to argue with the girls. Seeing they had won, Rochelle and Zoey proceeded up the stairs.

"We're going to go settle down and relax," Rochelle said with a cheeky smile, disappearing into the left hallway.

"I want the master bedroom!" Ellis screamed out almost immediately.

"No fair!" Franics argued like a child. "I'm taking up that last room!"

"Shit," Nick cursed, realizing he hadn't been quick enough to claim one of the master rooms.

"Well then, you, Louis and I will take up the guest rooms on the first floor," Coach said to the conman with a small smile. "Let's go."

The men dispersed.

Rochelle approached the grand, carved door at the end of the left hallway. Twisting the golden knob, she entered the room she found most appealing. With a large smile, she sighed in relief at the beautiful room. Rochelle set down her axe and combat rifle, and pain pills and med-kit, before stretching contentedly.

She turned the air-conditioner on and glanced at the painting in the room. Indeed, it was a portrait of a woman.

The painting was beautiful. The young woman in the picture wasn't looking ahead—in fact, she seemed distracted, her big green eyes looking elsewhere. Straight, brown hair cascaded down her back and shoulders beautifully, her expression neutral, the edge of her full lips slightly tugging upwards. Her skin was fair. Rochelle was envious of her beauty.

'_Seraphine Slate' _was engraved on the small metal below the painting.

"This must be the woman in the saferoom," Rochelle said, sadness replacing her relief and content. She stared at the painting for awhile. Yes, she bore resemblance to the Survivor in the saferoom…

"Thank you…" She whispered, turning away to go out to the balcony for fresh air.

* * *

"I just realized there's a radio in here!" Louis exclaimed in surprise.

Ellis, Nick and Coach, who were in the dining room at the time, heard his shout from the kitchen and rushed to him. Louis was examining an old-fashioned radio, the one he remembered using at Mercy Hospital.

"I can radio the military…" Louis mumbled, looking up at the three men.

There was contemplation. Did they really want to call the military, now? They were an unreliable party…and they have failed the Survivors before. Should they really radio for help? They were in a nice place, with food which could last for a year at minimum. Electricity and water was there, and with added luxury, was it wise to leave?

Coach finally spoke up. "Nah, I'd rather wait the apocalypse out, Louis. No need ta signal the military."

"I agree," Nick nodded.

With a grin, Louis nodded in comprehension. He stood up and rolled up his sleeves, approaching the freezer. "So, what do you want to eat for tonight, guys?"

"Lemme help ya, Louis," Ellis offered with a smile. "I could cook real good, too."

Coach laughed and told them he would be okay with anything. He and Nick left the kitchen and walked down the hallway. They could hear Francis flirting with Rochelle on the stairs.

It was getting dark outside. The sun was setting into the sea, birds were flying back to their homes, wind blew steadily and rustled trees and bushes, the sky was gold and purple instead of blue…

Nick felt happier. He was in Paradise with his new family, and he wanted it to stay that way. No military, no CEDA, no rules, no zombies.

Just days of leisure and games, waiting the apocalypse to die away.


	3. Eavesdropper

**A/N: **_I tried my best to make the romance work ;_; I tried_

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter :D_

* * *

"No, your vest is _still _ugly to me."

Francis frowned as Rochelle repeated her statement. At that moment, Coach emerged from the lower floor's right hallway, with Nick by his side. The conman had a smug smirk on his face as Rochelle proceeded to tease Francis about his unappealing vest.

The biker grunted after his crush's last remark and quickly ascended the stairs, turning for the right hallway where his room was situated. On his way, he found Zoey lingering in the said hallway, staring at the painting hung between her door and his door.

Her damp hair was no longer constrained into a ponytail, instead was released and reached below her shoulders. She was clumsily draped in a white dress, whereas her usual attire was in a ball in her hands.

"Hey, Zoey," Francis muttered, still a bit dejected from the earlier event, and joined Zoey as she admired the painting.

"Hey," Zoey nodded, paying little attention to him.

The painting was that of a married couple. The husband was tan and dark-haired, grinning boyishly as he embraced his wife from behind, posing for the photo. The wife, on the other hand, was orange-haired and fair, a beaming smile on her face and her hands on her husband's. The wedding rings on their fingers were proof of their marriage.

Zoey was lost in the picture. Her mother and father were once as happy as the couple in the painting…

"The wife's portrait is in my room," She said. "Kameira Kolten...maiden name was Kameira Slate. Mrs Kolten's nickname must have been 'Mei' according to her sister's letter."

Francis, however, misunderstood her lost expression. He cleared his throat and said mischieviously, "You imagining you and Louis in their place?"

Red tinted the delicate pallor of her face. She turned angrily to Francis and sputtered, "C-Cut it out, Francis! What you're _suggesting _isn't funny!"

"I'm not suggesting anythin', Sweetie," Francis winked, only to make her blush deeper.

"I've noticed you've started _assuming_ things between Louis and I," Zoey said bitterly. "Just because we talk a lot doesn't mean our relationship is beyond friends."

Francis chuckled, and the dark-haired girl jabbed an accusing finger in his chest. "Admit it, Francis! You're just jealous Louis isn't paying any attention to _you!"_

Upon hearing this remark, his chuffed expression changed into that of disbelief.

"Did you just—?!" He was at a loss for words, offended and startled.

Zoey folded her arms, a smug smirk on her face. "I swear, if Rochelle hadn't come along, you'd be—"

"I'm not _gay,_" Francis growled, rolling his eyes. "And Rochelle is slowly realizing my awesomeness."

Zoey laughed. "Don't you mean she's realized how attached you are to that hideous vest?"

"It's not hideous," He defended. "Seriously, before this goddamn apocalypse every lady wanted a piece of me."

She looked disgusted for a few moments, before smiling. "Go change out of those clothes and let me wash them, at least. Your vest is covered in zombie blood, brains and _puke."_

He frowned hesitatingly, and she offered, "I'm going downstairs to do my laundry. I guess I could take your clothes along. Besides, there should be some clothes for you in the wardrobe in your room."

There was some argument and reasoning, which ended quickly with victory on Zoey's side. He grunted and trudged into his room, finding it difficult to part with his beloved vest. After changing out, he wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, where his teammate waited patiently.

"Thanks," He mumbled, tossing his clothes to her.

"No problem," She grinned, cradling the laundry in her hands.

Francis closed the door and headed for the bathroom. He took a five-minute shower and searched the closet. He doubted there would be any clothes fitting him, considering his great height. However, he found a pair of jeans and a polo shirt which fit him perfectly.

"It's not everyday I meet somebody as tall as me," Francis grinned at the portrait. 'The Husband' from the marriage painting outside was the previous owner of his room. The biker learned from the portrait that his name was Gerard Kolten.

"Gerard and Kameira," He smiled to himself.

He glanced up at the clock to learn it was seven-thirty. Unwilling to go downstairs and risk stumbling into Nick, the biker decided to go out to his balcony.

He stepped out and took a deep breath of fresh air. As he expected, the balcony provided a breathtaking view of the sunset. Since the height of the trees was just below the height of the balcony, they did not obstruct the scenery.

Easing himself onto a small chair, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

It was then he heard Zoey's and Rochelle's voices from the floor below him.

"Why is the washing machine near the pool?" This was easily identified as Zoey's voice.

"It's easier to hang the clothes," Rochelle replied. "See this line near the pool? It's meant for the laundry."

There was some frivolous chatting between the girls, and he listened as they stuffed their laundry into the machine.

Rochelle was giggling. "Oh my God, is that Francis' vest?"

He grimaced as Zoey chuckled. "Yes, yes it is. I offered to do his laundry tonight and managed to get him out of this hideous thing."

"It should look better on him after all that Boomer puke is out," Rochelle said. "I wonder when Nick will get rid of that used-to-be white suit. Though I doubt that thing could be saved anymore."

There was some silence, until the tan-skinned woman said abruptly, "Louis and Ellis are cooking dinner, Coach told me."

"Ellis can cook?"

There was some mischief in Rochelle's voice. "Yes, but I'm not focusing on him, dear."

At this point, Francis felt a tinge of discomfort. He wasn't actually eavesdropping, was he? There was a difference between eavesdropping and overhearing. The biker hoped he wasn't visible from their angle.

"Louis was always a really good cook," Zoey commented, her voice slowly turning suspicious. "He always cooked for us back in the saferooms…Ro, what are you trying to say?"

"Well, there's been hints, Zoey," Rochelle chuckled. "You two seem very close."

A sigh. "Rochelle, I know it looks _that_ way, but there's nothing special going on between us. Louis just likes talking to me a lot because Francis is always an ass to him."

The biker frowned. He didn't appreciate being called an 'ass'.

"If he keeps on spending time with you like that, something's bound to happen."

"I know," Zoey sighed again. "The truth is, I'm starting to have a _teeny _crush on him."

A gasp of happiness came from the other woman, but the dark-haired girl hastily stammered, "I said _teeny! _It should wear off soon."

"I doubt that," Rochelle giggled. "I'm just going to say this right now—you and Louis are perfect together, alright? He's everything a woman wants in a man."

Francis would have sneered if he weren't eavesdropping—wait, overhearing. Louis, 'everything a woman wants in a man'? Ridiculous!

He thought Zoey would burst with laughter, but she startled him with saying contentedly, "Yes, he really is."

"By the way, Ellis doesn't still have feelings for me, does he?"

Rochelle chuckled. "Luckily for you, he doesn't. He noticed you with Louis and 'didn't want to get involved'."

After some silence, she added, "Besides, I think Ellis will be falling for somebody else pretty soon."

Curiosity took root in Francis' mind.

"Really?" Zoey sounded surprised. "He might get attracted to somebody else? But…who…?"

There was some silence, as though Rochelle wanted Zoey to guess. Francis waited in the intense quiet, until Zoey exclaimed disbelievingly, "Wait, if that's true, then it should be—"

Rochelle giggled, but Francis was still in the dark.

Then Zoey spoke again. "Are you saying Ellis will fall for _a guy?_"

He froze.

Rochelle finally laughed and divulged, "To be precise—Nick."

It took a few seconds for him to process the information, but when he did, it took him everything to stop the startled yelp from escaping his mouth. He contained his excitement and laughter as Rochelle described to Zoey the incident in detail between Nick and Ellis two nights ago.

Francis could no longer hold out. Soundlessly, he entered his room and slid the door shut, before laughing out loud. He laughed for about two minutes or so.

After wiping some tears from his eyes, Francis recovered and decided to go downstairs. Inside the dining room were Nick, Coach and Louis. Dinner was set out on the table, and the three men were engaged in a conversation.

"—and then Bill distracted the Tank," Louis was telling Coach when Francis opened the door.

The three men nodded at his presence and Louis resumed his story. Nick sat opposite Coach, whereas Louis sat at the far left end. There were three empty seats between he and Coach, and the gap between he and Nick was only one seat. Francis took the seat on Coach's left.

Then, Ellis walked in, followed by Rochelle and Zoey. The biker assumed he was tasked to call the girls to the table.

Ellis sat next to Nick, whereas Rochelle and Zoey sat at the remaining two places near Louis. This caused Rochelle to end up directly next to Francis (much to her annoyance) because the tan-skinned woman insisted Zoey sat next to Louis. The seven thanked God and the cooks (Louis and Ellis) before tucking into their meals.

"Remember, y'all, we better eat accordin'ly," Coach admonished, after a few healthy, scrumptious bites. "If the food here runs out or expires, I'd hate ta risk goin' back ta main land lookin' for more."

The others agreed to his wise advice.

The meal was not a chatty one, for everybody was enjoying and savoring the taste. About half an hour later, everybody was finished and Louis stood up to clean the mess.

"Louis, don't torture yourself," Zoey put a hand on his arm as he stood up. She had a small smile on her face. "Let me clean this up."

The dark-skinned man was about to protest until Rochelle insisted, "Just take her advice, Louis. I'll help her."

With much reluctance, Louis followed the other men out of the dining room. The five were making their way through the hallway when Nick noticed Francis was smirking at him like a maniac.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" Nick raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Nothin'," Francis said, snickering. He had just remembered what he overheard between Rochelle and Zoey concerning Nick and Ellis.

The conman changed his suspicious look to a glare, and this caused Ellis to quickly change the topic. "Hey, Francis, where'd your vest go? Where did ya get those new clothes?"

The biker, relieved by the diversion, explained to the hick how Zoey insisted he change out of the vest to get it cleaned, and how he found new clothes in his closet.

"Cool," Ellis muttered once he was done. "There must be some clothes in _my _wardrobe, too, righ'?"

"You have the _master bedroom, _boy," Coach reminded him. "Remember that. All that luxury just for you…geez, you're a lucky young man."

They reached the main hall at this point, and they parted ways. Francis and Ellis headed up the stairs whereas the remaining three continued straight into the left hallway.

The three guest bedrooms were right next to each other near the end of the hallway. Each room consisted of a single-bed, make-up table and wardrobe. There was no bathroom conjoining the rooms.

The two bathrooms were in separate rooms, opposite the bedroom doors. The library and entertainment room were near the starting of the hallway.

Nick probed through the small closet in his room and found some decent clothing to wear. Grabbing a towel, he removed his suit and covered his lower-half with the cloth, before dumping the dirty clothes to the side so he could do the laundry later.

He opened the door and peeked out. Satisfied the hallway was empty, he exited and hurried to the door opposite him, which was the bathroom.

After a refreshing shower and changing into comfortable clothes, Nick slipped into bed, and immediately fell fast asleep.

* * *

"Hey, Louis, do ya wanna go explore the island with me?" Ellis asked eagerly.

Louis looked up from the book he was reading. He gave the hopeful young man an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Ellis, but I don't really feel like being active anytime soon."

"Why not?"

There were a few minutes of contemplation. "Well, mainly because it's our second day here. Our second day away from all the chaos and frenzy we're already used to. I guess I just want to make it _real _to me, that this is actually happening, so relaxing for a few more days is ideal."

Ellis nodded, trying hard to sound understanding. "Oh, okay."

He turned to exit the library, but Louis caught the disappointment in his eyes. Before the auburn-haired man could leave, Louis called out to him. He said, "Go ahead and ask Nick. He's still in his room, though. He didn't come out for breakfast this morning."

"Thanks," Ellis smiled, leaving the library.

Once he was outside, he stared at Nick's bedroom door, which was visible from the library's entrance. The mechanic knew Nick would simply be annoyed by him if he asked, but a part of him felt happy Louis suggested to ask Nick. For some reason, Ellis felt he really wanted to explore the rest of the island with Nick, and Nick only.

He approached the door and knocked lightly.

After a few moments without answer, Ellis rapped on the door again. With a bit more force, this time.

An exasperated sigh came from within, followed with a vexed, "Who is it?"

He waited a few moments before answering with hesitance. "It's—me, Ellis."

The door opened. Nick stared at him with an eyebrow raised, not looking irritated like he sounded, instead looking bored.

"What?" He asked simply.

Ellis, feeling a bit more confident to know Nick wasn't riled, grinned. "Ya wanna explore the island with me?"

Nick now looked amused. "Why ask me, of all people?"

"What's wrong with askin' you?" Ellis frowned.

Nick subconsciously noted how adorable Ellis looked when he frowned like that. He was almost like a child.

With a smirk, Nick shrugged. "I just thought you would ask Louis or Rochelle for these kinds of activities."

"At first, I was gonna ask you, but then I figured you'd be pissed with me fer askin' you, so I invited Louis. But then Louis didn't wanna, so I came back to you."

He and Nick had a staring competition for a few minutes, before the conman released a defeated sigh and shook his head with a chuckle. "Alright, kid. Let me get my Magnum and we'll go."

"What's the Magnum for?" Ellis asked, curiously peeking in as Nick retreated to retrieve the said weapon.

"You never know what's out there," Nick said simply, loading his gun. After that was done, he proceeded out the door, with Ellis following behind him.

The duo went out the back to the pool. After a few remarks concerning the dry, dirty pool, they headed off into the forest behind the mansion.

The morning's sunshine peeked through the branches and leaves, making the forest trail a jigsaw puzzle of shades and sun. Birds, hidden somewhere in the tall trees, chirped and tweeted a refreshing song which guided them as they slowly and cautiously made their way. The wind which blew was mild and gently brushed against their skins, rustling the bushes in the process.

The flora was magnificent. The trees, flowers, grass and plants were healthy, alive and full of colour. Often they stumbled upon marvellous flowers with glaring colours, and often they would come across exotic plants (like pitcher plants), in which Ellis would try to touch, only to be refrained by Nick.

"Don't touch that," Nick snapped as the hick once again reached a hand out towards green, prickly-looking bushes. "Geez, you're like a child."

"Why can't I touch it?" Ellis asked, bewildered.

"If you do, you'll start getting rashes," Nick shook his head. He walked past the mechanic and grabbed his arm, dragging him along as he continued down the trail. "Why can't you just stop being so goddamn curious?"

Ellis chuckled, his lips curving into a sheepish smile. He increased his pace to keep up with Nick, who continued pulling him by the arm.

With each passing minute, the mechanic entertained himself with the thought that Nick didn't realize he was still holding him, and how the conman was oblivious as his hand slid from Ellis' forearm to his wrist.

The peaceful sound of trickling water came into hearing. Ahead of them was a shallow stream—it's water was crystal clear and dazzled in the morning sunshine. The water moved at a moderate speed, and the white sand and rocks rested lazily at the bottom. The two men stopped and stared into the stream, since it was in the middle of the trail.

As Nick was distracted by the stream, Ellis furtively looked down. Nick's hand was still coiled around his wrist…

"I ain't ever seen such clear water before," The hick commented. His lips curved into a cheeky smile as he proceeded with saying, "Hey, Nick? Aren't ya gonna let go'a my hand?"

He received the reaction he was looking for. The brown-haired man almost immediately relinquished his grip, and a faint red tinted his face. Ellis was amused, but pretended to be oblivious. He kneeled by the bank and plunged his hands into the stream.

"It's warm," He murmured, cupping the water before gently splashing it onto his face.

A warm smile adorned his face as a bird flew over their heads. "Geez. This is for real, Nick. We're really free from all that shit that's been happenin' ta us."

His green eyes met Nick's grey orbs, and Ellis said meaningfully, "I ain't ever felt so happy before. Not even when we went on tha' whirlybird after the bridge."

Nick broke the contact and looked up at the sky. It was so blue, and the sun was warm and gentle against his skin.

Finally, he closed his eyes, smiled, and said softly. "Yeah, me too, kid—me, too."

* * *

Francis was probing the switches to turn on the fountain at the entrance, but his efforts were futile.

"Hey, Francis," Rochelle's voice startled him. He turned around to find his crush smirking with a hand on her hip.

"Hello, beautiful," He said flirtatiously.

She rolled her dark eyes and proceeded with her objective. "Why not you and Louis head out back to the boat? Just walk along the beach or so at the front of the island."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Why should I do that? It sounds gay."

A hearty, melodious giggle came from the bronze-skinned woman. "No, no, I'm not saying _that. _Just suggesting you should hang out with your best friend, is all."

"Well, Louis has his ass stuck in the library," The biker retorted, furtively retreating. "He ain't in the mood for a romantic stroll on the beach, darlin'."

Rochelle was about to open her mouth to say something, but he had already escaped. Francis slipped inside and exited through the back door, entering the woodlands behind the house.

He occupied himself with the woods, constantly murmuring "I hate" to almost everything he saw. However, he was caught off-guard by a few voices, and dived into the grass.

Immediately, he recognized the voices to belong to Nick and Ellis. He continued cautiously, until he found them sitting by the bank of a shallow, pristine river. They were next to each other, their pants rolled up and their feet in the stream. The duo was chatting casually.

Remembering the incident between them mentioned by Rochelle, Francis couldn't help but smirk. He sat down in the thick grass, his head low, and observed the two men.

"Of all the Special Infected," Nick was saying, lazily glancing at Ellis, who was staring into the water. "I hate Smokers most. Those dipshits are almost always somewhere hard for you to shoot them."

Ellis chuckled. "Smokers? They ain't nothin' ta me. But a real pain in the ass is the freakin' Jockey. It's just offensive what they do."

"Well, Jockeys seem to really like you," Nick smirked. "I'm pretty sure you were the person humped most by those creepy assholes. In fact, you're like a Special Infected magnet. Yep, kid, you're just _that _attractive to mutated zombies."

"Not ta Witches, I ain't," Ellis retorted. "You were the jackass among us who couldn't help but startle one'a them cryin' girls every time we came across one."

"Hey, I've always been a women magnet." Nick waggled his eyebrows.

The hick rolled his eyes, then teased, "I guess that was why there were so many Spitters around, huh? Any'a the Spitters we met so far interested ya, Nick?"

Nick's amusement changed into that of irritation. He lifted a hand and pushed Ellis' head lightly.

Ellis frowned and pushed Nick with slightly more force. The conman raised an eyebrow, and repeated Ellis' action to him. Francis watched, smirking, as the two men began to aggresively nudge each other. They were like two quarelling children.

It was then Nick pushed Ellis so hard he slipped from the bank and fell into the water.

The conman took a few moments to realize what he had done, but when he did, he burst out laughing. Ellis sat up (since the water was shallow, it only reached his stomach when he sat in the river) and looked disbelievingly at Nick.

"Hey!" He shouted childishly. The grey polo shirt and pants he found in the wardrobe were no soaked and sticking to his skin. His cap, too, was wet.

Ellis removed his cap and squeezed the excess water out. Nick continued to laugh as the hick set his cap on the bank, next to Nick's Magnum, and studied him carefully.

"Well, if I'm goin' in, might as well 'ave you in, too," Ellis snapped, grabbing Nick's wrist antagonistically.

Since Nick's feet were in the water, it made it easy for the mechanic to pull him inside. Before long, the grey-eyed man was wiping his face and eyes, spitting out the water which entered his mouth and cursing underneath his breath.

He stared irritably at Ellis, who grinned in response.

"Great," Nick grunted, looking down at his soaked white shirt which stuck to his chest. "Game's over. Let's get back and change."

"Aw," was all Ellis said. He sounded disappointed.

"Well, what do you want to do?" Nick inquired, looking at him.

He was silent for a few minutes, before his lips broke into a handsome smirk. "You ever wonder which one'a us is stronger? Let's wrestle."

"Obviously, I am." The conman rolled his eyes, speaking from the criminal experience he had.

"Let's see about that."

Suddenly, Nick found himself being pushed into the water. He fought the force holding him down, wrapping his hands around the arms pushing against his shoulders. Swiftly, he managed to make the weight above him collapse, and Nick held victory as he pushed Ellis down into the water.

The auburn-haired man struggled, but then patted Nick's arms as a sign of defeat. Nick let go and Ellis sat up, gasping for air and wiping the liquid from his face.

"I told you so," Nick flashed a winsome grin.

Ellis said nothing. He laughed and stared into Nick's grey eyes. "Alright, alright. You win, Mr. Gamblin' Man."

Francis watched with growing excitement as silence fell between them. Ellis still had the faint smile on his face, but Nick's grin faltered with each passing second. It looked as though they were lost in each other's eyes.

Then, the biker realized their position and stifled a laugh. Nick was basically on top of Ellis, since earlier he had kept the hick down in the water, and had not gotten off of him yet. They were at such close proximity…

Ellis' eyes wandered down to Nick's shirt. It stuck to him, showing off his chiseled chest and well-built body. His pants, too, were wrapped tightly around his legs, showing off their slender and fit shape. A small flicker of desire and unrecognizable feeling sparked in Ellis.

He blushed and looked down, his lips tugging into a half-frown, half-smile.

Nick noticed the awkward situation, and realized their position. As he got off of the hick, Nick now knew how his body felt such heat. The distance between their thighs was almost zero…

Without him realizing, his face flushed as well.

As though on time, Zoey popped out of nowhere, startling the three men and saving the first two from an awkward silence.

She giggled, stood by the bank and smiled at them with both hands on her hips. "You two couldn't actually be left alone, can you?"

The two men stared at her blankly, the embarrassed frowns and dark blushes still on their faces.

Zoey shook her head with a chuckle. "Well, Coach is calling you two. He wants you to help Louis clean up the pool. Poor guy can't clean it all by himself, you know."

"What happened to that greaseball?" Nick frowned, annoyed. If Ellis didn't know any better he would have said Nick was irritated their moment was interrupted.

The dark-haired girl shrugged. "Beats me. He disappeared somehow."

With a sigh, the conman got to his feet, the excess water dripping back into the river. He held a hand out to Ellis and the hick accepted it, before getting up.

Francis remained quiet as the two men followed Zoey back up the trail to the mansion. Once they were surely out of sight, he removed himself from his hiding spot and smiled madly at the shallow stream.

"Nick, Nick, Nick," Francis mumbled, wagging his head. He ran a hand over his head and whistled. "What a heaty moment, huh, buddy? Geez, those two might end up having it bad for each other…"

There were some minutes of silence, until a familiar voice startled him.

"Francis, I hate people who walk away when I'm talking to them," Rochelle warned, seriousness darkening her usually cheerful tone. The biker grinned impertinently at her and she sighed. "What are you doing here all alone?"

"Nothin'," He lied, shrugging his shoulders casually.

Rochelle looked up at the sky. "Perhaps you don't want to go out to the beach because it's still early in the day. You should try going out later, in the evening. How does that sound?"

"Well, sure, but I don't want to go out with Louis," Francis shuddered. Then, he looked at Rochelle and raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Do _you _like long, romantic walks on the beach?"

The dark-skinned woman saw his trick. She smiled and took it lightly. "As a matter of fact, as cliché as it sounds—I do. What are you trying to say?"

"I'd agree to going out to the beach if it means walking with you," Francis shrugged, looking down at his feet. "We could get to know each other better that way."

The aura she emitted gave Francis the hint she was entertained by his invitation. Rochelle was quiet for a while, before saying, "Alright, then. I'll give you a chance." Without giving him a chance to reply, she walked past him and up the trail towards the mansion.

Francis just watched in admiration as his crush disappeared past beautiful flora.


End file.
